


Limits

by Wishmaker



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3694598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishmaker/pseuds/Wishmaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knew life had its limits, but how were you to tell your boyfriend you were going to die in a week?</p><p>Or:<br/><i>He was sure Neku had questions burning on his tongue, but he didn’t vocalise them. Not a single one.</i></p><p>  <i>What difference did it make, though?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Limits

**Author's Note:**

> My long-overdue contribution to the fandom, because there are never enough JoshNeku fics <3

Joshua was lying on the couch when the door front of Neku’s apartment ( _apartment too big for one too big for two so maybe it was fine that around 1,5 people lived there_ ) opened, watching a midday marathon of some crime scene investigation TV show or another. He had been there for quite a long time, he believed, because he had come over as soon as he had woken up and Neku’s work, as sporadic as the life of an artist was, never gave him his well-deserved freedom before four PM. Also, he could no longer feel his feet.  
  


“Josh?” Neku asked as he put his things away. Joshua could hear the frown in his voice and it was to be expected. Despite having his own key, Joshua rarely let himself in to the apartment when Neku wasn’t there – and even if he did, he was currently supposed to be somewhere else altogether. Neku was probably worried about him. Silly Neku, everything was all right… 

  
“Why, are there other dazzling young men who could be lounging on your couch in the middle of the day? And here I thought I was special…” he murmured, a bit more quietly and a bit more forced than he would’ve preferred. His voice was raspy, as if he had been drinking or crying or screaming. For the record, he hadn’t, but he supposed he might as well accomplish all of that before the week was over. Life is short, right? He was only now realising just how short, actually. He raised his head a bit because it was the only part of his body that seemed to be feeling compliant at the moment.  
  


Neku crossed over the small apartment, only to dump the mail on Joshua’s face and laugh at the frown it drew from him. Magazines and letters cascaded around him as he lay there, both content and distressed. Was this how their life together was to be?  
  


Looking at the mail made Joshua realise many things, each equally heart-breaking. One of these was that soon he might be nothing but a headline on the paper, a headline Neku wouldn’t know whether to rip apart or to put in a safe place where it would exist without him needing to address everything it meant. Another thing was that Joshua’s mail would never come to any address than the current one; downtown just under two miles from Neku’s apartment. One more was that his name wasn’t and would never be on the lease for this place. Yet another was that he’d never get married, never have a true home; he would never reach the kind of happiness he had always thought was so close to his reach.  
  


He made a paper airplane of an envelope that looked like a bill and threw it at Neku. It was worth it, because it stopped Neku in the middle of asking if everything was all right. Instead, he pushed Joshua’s feet back to gain some space to sit on the sofa, joining him in watching stupid TV shows like nothing was wrong. Joshua’s feet had tremors running up and down them, and he voiced this aloud, only to gain an eye-roll from his partner.

  
“Sucks to be you,” Neku murmured without even a hint of pity.  
  


In the evening, Neku cooked for them both. He rarely cooked, which was a real pity because he wasn’t half-bad at it. Joshua could hardly even boil water without breaking something, ( _he had been a very spoiled child_ ) so he usually sated himself with some high-end takeout sushi, as far as takeout sushi could ever be viewed as such.  
  


Joshua drank a glass of red wine and felt divine; he smiled to Neku and talked about the endless possibilities of life. Neku, in return, spoke of his newest piece of art and how it was a work in progress but he’d probably get to show it to Joshua in a few weeks. He was excited, obviously, so Joshua nodded at every right moment and told him he could hardly wait. ( _in a way he wished there could still be something worth waiting for_ )

* * *

 

Joshua had always, always been able to tell when people were about to die. His entire life, he had been getting a sick feeling and a headache and a blackening vision when he saw someone who was to die within the upcoming week. He had no idea why it happened and why in the world he had to know about it; the only thing he did know was that he _despised_ it.  
  


Through it all – knowing Neku’s mother would die, ( _Neku had been so upset Joshua hadn’t told him_ ) knowing _his own_ mother would die, knowing about strangers and friends, knowing about hospital patients (he hadn’t been to a hospital since he was ten because he _really didn’t want to know_ ), he had been taking notes. He would list people, days, hours, causes of death and anything he knew, in some cathartic hopes of making some sense to it, of _fulfilling his purpose_ or something equally dazzling.  
  


It made him feel like an accountant, sitting at his desk with reading glasses perched on his nose, a cup of coffee at his elbow and a black Moleskine, rather _Death Note_ -esque, just waiting before him for a young boy to play death without any actual qualifications for his endlessly gruesome job.  
  


It was the most dreadful thing to ever happen to him, to wake up in his bed on a Saturday morning with a headache and a sick feeling and without seeing properly. To look in the mirror and only confirm what he already knew. To traipse into the kitchen, to find his notebook, to bury his head into his hands, to write down the current time and the name _Yoshiya Kiryu_. He briefly wondered how macabre it would be to hand it over to Neku; to request him to write down the time and cause of his death, to complete the vile task Joshua had worked on his whole life, the one he wasn’t able to finish because the last entry was his very own.  
  


He knew right as the thought crossed his mind that he wouldn’t; he couldn’t do that to Neku and not to himself. He didn’t want to spend his last week worrying and what was even worse, he didn’t want to see Neku miserable for his sake. Neku would have time to mourn for him later.  
  


Besides, how do you even begin to tell your boyfriend that you’re dying?

* * *

“I think you should move in.”  
  


Joshua was poised, he was graceful, he was composed, and none of this kept him from choking on his coffee, spluttering and coughing and making other sorts of ridiculous sounds before gathering himself and thinking of a good comeback. “I’m not quite sure I caught that, dear.  
  


“You should… move in. With me. Here.” He laughed, though it seemed more nervous than amused, and shrugged, “I mean, you don’t have to, of course, but… you’re over all the time anyway, so it would be more convenient, half the rent and all that…? Do you even go to your own apartment anymore?"  
  


Joshua sighed, exasperatedly, only because he needed another minute to gather his thoughts. “Should’ve known you only want to save money…”  
  


“I don’t,” Neku hissed, seeming more taken aback by Joshua’s remarks than usually. “I just… I’d like to live together with you, okay? Screw you for making me say it. Screw you. Besides, we’ve been together for three years now… so…”  
  


He was smiling, but it was just a social smile. “I think I might like that.”  
  


The thing was this; to Joshua, emotions were a world away. He didn’t experience them in the vibrant brilliancy Neku did and not with the urgency Shiki ( _she was the inevitable childhood friend Neku may have dated, once in another life_ ) did and not even with the dreadful monotony Mr. H seemed to take his. Whenever he felt something, it was usually related to Neku and by this extent, he was only borrowing a feeling that wasn’t his to take.  
  


Now, for probably the first time in his life, he felt like he was going to cry. A week ago all of this would’ve made him grin so wide it would’ve been hard to brush off with an offhanded joke, because this might have well been everything he had wanted from his life; a real home.  


“Is that a yes?”  
  


“…Yeah, it is. I’d… I’d love to move in with you, Neku. Next week?”

They would go on to Neku’s bedroom, clothes would be shed, Joshua would feel good but he wouldn’t feel better because he was already dead, not necessarily to the world but to everything that mattered.

* * *

 

Neku was washing the dishes when Joshua trailed to the kitchen. It was so raw and domestic, the way his sleeves were rolled up and his hair was a mess that Joshua almost wanted to cross the distance and hug him, maybe kiss him and tease him about his scarecrow hair.  
  


“I’m going to… Paris,” he admitted instead, tugging at his hair absently, “Visiting my family, since it’s been such a long time...” He briefly wondered if he’d cause the whole plane to crash by boarding it, but he supposed he could find out at the airport and change his plans if so needed be.  
  


He didn’t want Neku to see him die and Neku’s apartment ( _the apartment that would be theirs, come next week_ ) was suddenly making him feel three different kinds of claustrophobic. While he didn’t exactly wish to do much else but die ( _what a horrid pun that was_ ) right now, he wanted to spend as much time with Neku as he could without dying on him.  
  


“What?” Neku turned around and nearly pulled nearest the mug from the counter with his arm, “When?"  
  


“Weekend. Didn’t I mention about it? I bought the tickets last week, there was a sale…”  
  


“In three days? What?” He crossed a few steps across the room, but dropped his intentions when Joshua turned his body away, taking two steps for one of Neku’s. “You didn’t. I’d remember you travelling half-way across the globe, I’m pretty certain.”  
  


“Must’ve forgotten, then,” he dismissed it hazily with a wave of his hand, “I’ll be back by Wednesday, though.” He felt stupid, standing there in Neku’s small kitchen early in the morning without any intention of attending today’s lectures, feeling claustrophobic and lachrymose all at once, so he traipsed back to the bedroom. “I think I’m going back to bed, I have an awful headache.”  
  


He was sure Neku had questions burning on his tongue, but he didn’t vocalise them. Not a single one.  
  


What difference did it make, though?

* * *

He didn’t go home that day or the next, because his apartment was cold and empty and everything he didn’t wish from his last days. Besides, Neku was warm and his bed was small and just big enough for them to press against each other, for Neku to complain how Joshua’s hair was _always_ in his face and how he _always_ hogged the blankets and _honestly_ , did he want Neku to die of hypothermia?  
  


In the mornings, when Neku showered and he lay in the bed, halfway dead and halfway blissed out of his minds, he privately wondered how he would die and if it would be violent. Would it be better if he just got it over with? He could probably make it less painful than anyone else; just a bottle of sleeping pills and then he could go to sleep and he could pretend everything would be all right in the morning. He’d have to do that at his own apartment, though. He wouldn’t want Neku to find his slender wrists lacking a pulse and his clouded eyes lacking a _life_.  
  


He wanted to tell Neku at least _something_ before the inevitable happened, so he didn’t. 

* * *

 

Their first meeting had been more or less coincidental. Joshua was tending to WildKat that night – it was actually more of a café than it was a bar, but Joshua was a better bartender than he ever was a barista. It seemed that his gracefulness didn’t quite translate to his (inexistent) skill for carrying multiple cups and trays at once. He was a good bartender though – imaginative enough for interesting drinks and indifferent enough to let all the drunken comments slide by. He wasn’t paid in full because Mr. H was his uncle ( _sometimes referred to as “closest living relative”_ ) and _family helped family_ , but he didn’t really mind. He had a tab for all his morning coffees he had never planned on paying off, so things worked out.  
  


“Had a rough night?” he had asked Neku, who was sitting at one of the stools by the counter, aiming for sympathetic and ending up grinning a bit too much, judging by the other’s suspicious expression.  
  


“Are you even old enough to work here?”

  
“Of course I am, why would I be here otherwise? Yoshiya Kiryu, charmed to be here for you.” He had been working there ever since first turning 20, so it was a well over a year at that point. He supposed his features were still a bit boyish though, though he didn’t blame Neku for asking. Besides, maybe it was a very weak pick-up line? He giggled at the idea, brushing hair away from his face. “What can I do for you?” It was rare, ultimately rare, that he would ever get a chance to stop for chitchat while tending the bar, but he supposed the stars were aligned just right that night. ( _and who would be drinking on December 23 rd? very few people, it seemed_)  
  


Neku didn’t really know what he wanted, so he ended up shrugging. “Neku Sakuraba… Think I lost my headphones today."  
  


“What a pity. Think you’re going to find them?”  
  


“I lost them in the _Udagawa Back Streets_ , so you figure out.”  
  


“Ouch.”  
  


They talked about the world, Joshua tried a few experimental drinks that were nowhere in the books or the menu, and before the clock hit 3 AM, they were sort of friends. Sort of. Joshua was pretty sure Neku didn’t have too many friends to begin with, so they were the same in so many ways.

* * *

 

Neku came back on Christmas Eve, chastising Joshua for spending Christmas working. ( _apparently answering the question “don’t you have a family?” with a flat “no” caused silences_ ) After brief conversation, it became obvious Neku disliked the holidays as much as Joshua himself. It wasn’t real spite though – he just disliked the loneliness, and Joshua could really relate.  
  


Joshua bought him new headphones for Christmas, Neku looked like he had discovered the door of the café-slash-bar led to _fucking Narnia_ , they fought over it, Neku hardly ever strolled more than three feet away from the headphones and Joshua teased him about it openly.  
  


It was the first Christmas they spent together; next year his present would be a key to Neku’s apartment and they’d both be overly excited even though neither of them would say it aloud.

* * *

 

“What are we, Yoshiya?”  
  


It was one of the last times Neku addressed to Joshua with his name.  
  


“What do you mean?” He cocked his head, fingers curling around his cup of soy latte. Neku knew most of his nervous ticks so playing with his hair wasn’t an option.  
  


He sighed, leaning back only to lean forward again. “I… are we friends?"  
  


“Why, I would definitely consider us friends by definition. What prompted this bout of insecurity, dear?”  
  


Neku was bad at words, almost as bad as Joshua was with honestly, so his explanation was a hasty, sloppy kiss pressed to the corner of Joshua’s mouth and Joshua’s response was spilling his latte on the table.  
  


He swore, later when they were in Neku’s apartment, that he _was_ graceful, just… not with coffee, never with coffee. ( _and looking back, he would never become graceful with coffee, either_ )  
  


Neku laughed at him, drawing circles on his back and occasionally nuzzling his shoulder. Neku Sakuraba was a cuddler and Joshua could have shared this information with all their friends, were he not so happy to keep it to himself. Another thing completely was that Neku probably had similar blackmail about him. “I think I got my answer.”

 

“Oh?” Joshua giggled happily, flicking his way through the cable channels all the while. “And what would that be?”

 

“I think we might be boyfriends.”

 

It took Joshua months to realise the truth behind this and a full year before he had gathered the guts to actually use the term.

 

When he did, Neku had fallen from his chair in surprise, ( _it was his own fault for not sitting properly, actually_ ) Shiki had laughed, Joshua had blushed and Mr. H had offered them drinks to celebrate. Everyone knew it was a big thing, for Joshua to admit it like he had.

 

It may well have been the best day of Joshua’s short life.

* * *

 

The Narita airport was the same way Joshua remembered it ( _though last time he and Neku had been headed to New York and it had been endlessly more pleasant_ ); huge, small, crowded and noisy. He grasped the tickets in his hand; out of some strange, out of character optimism, he had bought a return ticket as well. In a way he felt bad for spending money on such a blatant lie, but he felt a bit better thinking about his high life insurance and the way he had made a testament a few days back. A bit of the money would go to the parents in Paris he’d never visit ( _what a horrid accident that was_ ) and the rest to Neku.  
  


Maybe they wouldn’t have lasted forever and hopefully ( _he needed to practice some altruism now because this was his last chance_ ), Neku would find someone new to take his place. He didn’t exactly wish for this( _altruism, Joshua, good people go to heaven_ ), but he wished for Neku’s happiness regardless.  
  


The fact was that in Joshua’s life, when it ended within the next thirty hours, Neku had been the one. It was a pity Joshua had never told him that, in so many words. Even when he left to the airport, they had exchanged only casual pleasantries ( _“have a safe trip_ ” _oh Neku if you only knew “don’t worry, I’ll be back soon”_ ) and a kiss, only a few seconds longer than the ones they shared when they hadn’t seen each other for a few days. Joshua hadn’t wanted to make this seem as final as it was, so he hadn’t clung to Neku like his instincts wanted him to.  
  


Maybe he’d call Neku from Charles De Gaulle, complain about his sore neck and the obnoxious person sitting next to him for the whole sixteen-hour flight. Maybe he’d then offhandedly mention that Neku was the best thing to ever happen to him, even though he had never had the decency to act that way.  
  


He was pretty sure he wouldn’t, though. He might leave a spontaneous text message ( _ca fait du bien d'etre a la maison x_ ) because he knew how much Neku despised his casual use of French without any explanation or context whatsoever. He could spare his last contact to Neku to be like the same way their communication usually was; careless teasing and affectionate bickering. Maybe Neku would remember him less as a wreck and more like the proud young man he really was.  
  


Maybe he should do something a bit more classy; they’d be his last words, after all. _Either that wallpaper goes or I will_ , he could be the Oscar Wilde of his own life. He identified with Dorian Gray to an extent that would actually make it rather fitting. _You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit._ Suddenly his mind was swimming with all of the fights and memories of Neku and the things he had done and the things he hadn’t and he was pretty sure the last week had actually caused him to become claustrophobic. _Great.  
_

He sighed, crossing his feet over each other and picking up a newspaper, only to be soon distracted from the words he wasn’t reading. Something about a fire, he had seen that person last week, had seen that he’d be gone soon, he would write this incident down but he hadn’t brought his notebook with him because it would be there for Neku to find.  
  


“Josh,” a voice that was clearly Neku’s hissed, slightly breathy and when Joshua looked up, he looked that way as well. “I…. I don’t think you should go.”  
  


Joshua frowned, thought he believed his wide eyes and stiff posture undermined the purpose of the expression quite well. “Go where? What—how did you even find me?”  
  


Neku sighed, fingers playing at his headphones in a display of what was so Joshua he almost laughed. “I’ve been here with you what, six times? Of course I know where to find you, by now.” He tugged at the newspaper and plucked it from Joshua’s hands, hands that were currently very much disconnected from his brain. “Come on.”  
  


“Earth to Neku?” Joshua muttered, though he stood up if only to talk in more hushed tones and not draw any more attention from the elderly ladies that were already staring. “Paris? Parents? Haven’t you been listening at all?”  
  


“I have,” Neku insisted, “And I know what’s going on and I just…” he looked away and continued after a pause in a voice that sounded like an piano sliding on thin ice. “I want you to come home, with me.”  
  


“You _know_?” Joshua repeated, tugging his suitcase closer to his body. The airport suddenly felt even smaller than before, even in all its vast emptiness. Joshua believed he might be ill.  
  


“Of course I do,” he repeated, “I thought something was wrong with you ever since Sunday but now it’s just getting… I can’t believe you didn’t think about _telling me_.”  
  


Joshua looked away now that Neku was searching for his eyes. “I wanted to spend the week like I would have wanted to spend the rest of my life, though I suppose I’ve been moping rather disproportionately for that,” he admitted quietly, “I just thought the rest of my life would have been…” _a bit longer, no actually I thought I’d have another fifty some years I wasn’t supposed to live fast die young N e k u_  
  


“Let’s go,” Neku cut in, tugging at his arm and pulling him to a halfway hug, both at the same time. “I have a cab waiting because I paid him like, thrice what it cost me to get here?”  
  


“My flight’s leaving i—“  
  


“Stop doing that. I know you think you’re doing all the right things but did it ever occur to you that I might want to spend as time with you as possible?” The ice was breaking now, his voice a haphazard mixture of desperation, sadness and hopefulness. “You promised to move in with me and you never did, so this is the fucking least you can do.”  
  


Joshua didn’t cry but he supposed dying did weird things to everything you thought you knew about the world because he was pretty sure he could feel his cheeks dampening now. Neku’s apartment would be their home, if only for the next twenty-four hours. He’d have a home. With Neku. _They’d have a home._  
  


“Okay.” He thought he understood happiness now, if true happiness was a heartache threatening to consume your whole being.  
  


He felt bad for ever thinking he and Neku might not have been forever. They were brilliant together and even in his cynical mind, they would have always been that way. Would’ve could’ve should’ve been.  
  


Neku’s hand was a perfect fit on his shoulder, as it should’ve been.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this! ;w; I'd die (sorry) for some signs of life so could you maybe leave a mark right about here? >u>


End file.
